


Dinner for One

by roseygal99



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseygal99/pseuds/roseygal99
Summary: Alfred attempts to have dinner with the Bat Family on Christmas Eve.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	Dinner for One

Alfred removed the extra place settings from the table methodically, chiding himself for being disappointed. Of course they would be busy – they should be busy. He was certain that what they were doing far surpassed a simple dinner in importance. If he were being honest, he was proud of them all for prioritizing the well-being of others over something so trivial as a holiday tradition. But still, as Alfred stowed away the last set of silverware, turned off the twinkling lights, and returned to the near-empty dinner table, something ached deep in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time the family had found themselves otherwise occupied on Christmas Eve. It seemed that without fail some ne’er-do-well always had evil intentions for the city the night before Christmas. He supposed there was something about the theatrics of it all, the spectacle of it. Gotham’s criminals were nothing if not dramatic, he thought. If he were being honest, he couldn’t actually remember the last time they had all been together for Christmas Eve dinner. But usually, despite whatever might have been going on elsewhere, at least one or two people were able to make it. If only for a little while. This was the first year, it seemed, that he would have to make do alone.

He took his seat at the end of the table and considered the platters of steaming food before him. He had been a fool to prepare so much knowing that they would be unable to attend. Force of habit, he supposed. Perhaps he ought to stow it all away. There was no use in letting it go cold on the table. As he rose to begin taking the food back to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. 

“Carolers,” he murmured, walking to the door. He considered preparing some hot chocolate for them as he normally would then decided against it, realizing he was not in the mood to entertain. A blast of wintry air and snow flurries blinded him momentarily as he opened with a gently indulgent smile, ready to greet a well-meaning cluster of amateur singers. 

Instead, the person on the other side threw their heavily insulated arms around him, shouting, “Alfred!” 

Alfred blinked flakes out of his eyes, confused as the person slipped past him and a woman’s voice chimed in, “Sorry we’re late. I hope you weren’t waiting too long. I brought biscuits from that place you like.”

Alfred stood in the open doorway, staring at the two people standing in the foyer shedding their layers: Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson. Barbara continued, “I told Dick to call and let you know we were coming but—” 

“Dropped my phone off the G-Mobile Tower.” He shrugged then reached out slapped Alfred’s back jovially. “Sorry, buddy. Any food left? I’ve been dying for some of your ham. It was all I could think about all night.”

“And talk about,” Barbara muttered, making a “blah blah blah” motion with her hand and rolling her eyes.

Alfred simply gazed at them both, beaming, hardly hearing a thing.

“Alfred?” Dick asked, studying him. “You okay?”

He blinked and spluttered, “Yes, of course! I’ll go set your places. Let me take your coats, both of you.” As he put up their coats and prepared two more settings, he noticed Dick frowning at his watch. “Are you expecting something, Master Dick?”

“Just wondering where everyone else is,” Barbara said. “We thought we’d be the last ones here.”

“I’m afraid it will just be us. Everyone else is occupied this evening.”

“Wait, what?” Dick said, looking up suddenly. He and Barbara exchanged a look and he continued, saying, “I’ll be right back,” before pushing away from the table and leaving. He returned a few minutes later and whispered something into Barbara’s ear and hovered by the doorway leading into the foyer.

“Is everything all right?” Alfred asked.

“Never better,” Dick said, suppressing a smile. Alfred chose not to press the issue, and instead took his seat. “Will you be joining us, then?”

“Uh, let’s wait on dinner a little while longer,” Dick said. “Just in case.” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow at this, but a moment later the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it,” Dick said quickly. He reappeared a moment later, grinning victoriously. Tim Drake and Damian Wayne entered behind him, shaking snow out of their hair.

“Mm! Smells good,” Tim announced gleefully, tugging off his scarf. “Sorry, we’re late, Alfred. There was this whole thing with Clayface downtown.” Tim looked at Damian expectantly. Dick thumped the young boy in the back of the head.

“Ow! What?” Damian snapped. He clocked Dick’s expression and sighed dramatically. “Apologies for the delay, Pennyworth. We were busy, you know, doing our jobs.”

“Cute,” Dick sighed, rolling his eyes, but Alfred remained unbothered. He had already returned with two more place settings and was in the process of reheating various dishes.

“Need any help?” Tim asked.

“No, no, please,” Alfred said, buzzing around the room. “Sit, sit. Warm yourselves.” He flitted over to the hearth and got a fire started, then returned to place mugs of hot cocoa in front of them. When the bell rang again moments later, Alfred could hardly believe his ears. Dick dipped out and returned with Jason Todd, a package tucked under his arm.

“He comes bearing gifts,” Dick declared.

Alfred gawked. “Master Jason?”

Handing over the package, Jason said simply, “It’s booze,” before slouching into a chair. Damian and Tim considered the package with curious eyes. Tim began to open his mouth--

“No,” Dick and Jason said at once.

Alfred’s chest felt incredibly warm as he took his seat once more and raised a glass. “A toast.”

The rest of the table raised their glasses, but Damian paused. “Wait,” he said, looking around. “Where’s father?”

Alfred looked at Dick who shrugged. “I called everyone,” he explained. “He was the only one who didn’t respond.”

“Last I heard he was over at Arkham,” Jason said, leaning back in the chair. “Think they had him testing out their new security protocols again or something.”

The table fell silent, but Alfred rallied, fighting for levity. “His spirit is here all the same,” he said plainly. “He doesn’t need to be here physically for us to know how much he cares for this family.”

They voiced their assent, raising their glasses just as a panel in the wall slid back. Bruce Wayne emerged from a hidden elevator, straightening his tie and paused when he saw the crowded dining room with a dozen eyes on him. He cocked his head playfully. “Don’t tell me I missed all the fun,” he said, quirking a smile.

The group erupted in playful ribbing and laughter as he made his way to the head of the table and grabbed a glass. “Well then,” he said, leveling a warm gaze on Alfred. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Where were we?”

Alfred smiled as he lifted his glass once more and the rest of the room mirrored his motion. “To family,” he said earnestly. “Those by blood and, perhaps more importantly, those by choice.”

The dining room suddenly flashed with light. He looked to see Dick crouched behind the massive Christmas tree, plugging the string lights in. He emerged, grinning, with pine needles stuck in his hair. “That’s better!” he laughed. As the lights danced across beaming faces, casting the room in a warm golden hue, as eager hands reached across the table and laughter bubbled up from every direction, Alfred realized that he couldn’t agree more.


End file.
